Then suddenly I understood what he was saying. “Her last name. Shen adopted her, but his last name won’t actually be hers. She’s not a Liang, she’s a Lawson, like Anne.”

“Let’s hope.” He closed his eyes and whispered the new version of her name, and again I waited. And again, quicker this time, he sighed in frustration and opened his eyes. “Nothing. If I knew her personally and already had a feel for her energy signature, I might be able to get at least a blip to let us know she’s alive. But I only met her for a couple of minutes, and her name…just isn’t working. I feel like we’re missing something.”

Oh, shit. “Try Caballero,” I said softly, and Cam’s entire frame went stiff. “If she’s yours, it’s possible Anne gave her your last name.”

“Why would Anne give her my name, but not tell me about it?”

“I don’t know. To protect her?” From exactly what we were doing… Because if Cam didn’t know she had his name, no one else would, either. “Just try it, and we can deal with whatever the result tells us later.”

Cam closed his eyes again, demonstrating a level of concentration he wouldn’t have needed for most other trackings—which just showed how difficult this one was proving. “Hadley…Caballero,” he whispered, and I held my breath, not sure how to feel about the possibility that his paternity might be revealed through a routine tracking. I wasn’t sure how he felt about that possibility, either, which made my nerves a little harder to control.

But a minute later, he looked at me again, this time with an odd mixture of disappointment and relief. “Nothing. If she’s mine, she doesn’t have my name.” He grabbed his soda again and drank as if he was wishing for something stronger. “How the hell does Cavazos expect you to find his kd with one name, when I can’t even find Anne’s with two names?”

“When she wakes up, we can get Hadley’s middle name.” And hopefully a blood sample.

Then I froze as Cam sat straighter, and we both seemed to realize what I’d said at the same time.

“Her middle name…” I mumbled, and he nodded. “If she’s your daughter, her second middle name is yours to give. And you haven’t named her yet.”

“There’s no better time…” he said. “Just like Cavazos.” And he looked sick over the comparison.

I could have happily lived my entire life without ever finding a similarity between Cameron and Ruben, but if it helped us find Hadley… “So, what are you going to name her?” Though I really shouldn’t have asked. It was none of my business, and revealing her potential middle name could put the child in some serious potential danger someday.

But Cam only blinked at me. “I have no idea. I’ve never even thought about it. I always assumed that when I had a kid, I’d have at least a few months’ warning. Time to prepare.”

While he thought about it, I started opening the top cabinets we’d left closed in search of something stronger than soda. And finally, above the fridge, I found a small bottle of very expensive whiskey.

“Go easy on this,” I said, setting it in front of Cam along with a short, clear glass. “I suspect this is going to be a long night.”

“Thanks.” He opened the bottle—the seal hadn’t even been cracked—and poured a double shot, then waved off my offer of ice. “What do you think Cavazos would think of me drinking his whiskey?” Cam took a long sip.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my whiskey, considering how insistent he is that this is my apartment.”

“Well, then, you have excellent taste.” He took a second sip, then set the glass down. “Maybe you should consider staying here occasionally, just for the fringe benefits.”

I frowned at him, leaning over the bar. “I’m pretty sure that’s exactly why he wants me to stay here.”

I let him drink in silence for a few minutes, then I had to nudge. Every moment we wasted was a moment Anne spent without her daughter. A moment Tower could be moving Hadley even farther away from us. “Ideas?” I asked, and he shook his head. “You could always name her after your mother.”

Cam nearly choked on a fresh sip. “I think I should probably tell her she’s a grandmother—maybe—before I start naming unexpected children after her.”

“A valid point.” I hesitated, then pushed forward again. “I hate to rush something this important, but we need to move, Cam. What’cha got?”

“Nothing, yet. I don’t even know if she’s my kid….”

“I know.”

“But if she is, I owe her the courtesy of putting a little thought behind a name she’s going to be suck with.”

“So pick something pretty.”

He scowled at me, as if I’d just suggested he hang his theoretical daughter over the balcony by one foot. “Screw pretty. She needs something safe. Something with several potential nicknames. Something unrelated to me or to her, so it can’t be guessed. Something random, but not without some aesthetic value. After all, she is a girl.”

“That’s what I was getting at,” I said, both stunned and amused by the level of thought he was putting into it.

“Most people get nine months to think about this….” he complained.

I laughed. “Most girls start naming their future children in junior high.” He glanced at me with both brows raised, and I shook my head vehemently. “Not I. But I will admit to putting almost as much thought into picking out the .50 caliber as you’re putting into this.”